Faery
by shadowsbringthestarlight
Summary: Not all faeries have wings. Drabble.


**Faery**

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.

* * *

"Are you a faery?"

Stormy grey meets cerulean blue.

_Oh no. I just said that aloud didn't I, _the redheaded eighteen year-old thinks miserably.

Suddenly the library feels horribly tiny, with the thousands of book-laden shelves threatening to suffocate every living being within a twenty-meter radius.

"What?" he says with a small laugh.

"Huh?" the girl asks innocently, failing at her attempts to hide her rosy blush.

"Did you just ask me if I was a faery?"

He raises a blond, patrician eyebrow and shakes with mirthful laughter.

"Er, well—," she stutters, "I just—Uhm—Maybe?"

"And now you're unabashedly inarticulate," the young man sets aside his parchment, leans forward and grins, "What in the world is wrong with you?"

The girl sitting from across him quickly recomposes herself.

"Oh, nothing really— I came across this book about faeries and such. It's been so mesmerizing that I must have been, er, bewitched?"

"And that's the best you can come up with?"

"It's true! It was about how faeries live and dwell among human beings, and how they managed to survive all these centuries. And there was one particularly long paragraph on their outward appearances."

"Go on," he urged with a smile.

"The book described them as being tall, almost human-like, yet to quote the author, _infinitely blessed with absolute beauty and power_," she looks up at him and explains, "And then the next sentences are mostly about the apparently enchanting colour of their eyes and their hair that _shines in sunbeams and moonlight."_

He smirks.

"And you thought that I was what, 'infinitely blessed with absolute beauty and power'?"

"Your ego is quickly filling up this room."

"Oh, but you thought that my eyes are apparently enchanting, and my hair shines in sunlight and moonbeams—"

"Sunbeams and moonlight."

"Same thing. But obviously I had all the traits to qualify me as a faery."

"Shut up. I was caught up in the moment."

"Of staring at me."

"I did not do such a thing. I was caught up in _reading._"

"Really. You're bad at lying."

Hard blue glare at soft grey.

She lets out a little huff.

"What's it to you anyway?" she counters, closing the book in front of her, "I thought all you understood about faeries was that of spritely creatures with sparkly wings."

"Well, you offered a new perspective, and that made me interested," he raises his eyebrows, "Plus the fact that you find me enchanting."

"I didn't say that. As if you need another ego boost! You practically have a freaking fan club who worships the very ground you walk on."

He studies her closely, and takes in the beauty radiating from her long, auburn locks, and from her downcast eyes glittering with impatience. And still he cannot resist testing her particular brand of impatience.

"Do I smell jealousy?"

"What?" she growled incredulously to her study partner, "Get out of it. I am nowhere near being jealous."

"Suit yourself. Like I said, you're not a very good liar."

"Did you come here to insult me?"

"No. I came here to _study_. And no, I am not insulting you. Why would I?"

"Old habits die hard."

"The last time I insulted you was in first year. First year! Six years ago!"

"But the point is, you still did."

"As I can recall, you started that fight."

"Only because you found it funny to hide my stuff in the broom closet outside the Great Hall! And that was two hours before the end of the term!"

"Oh come on, Al talked me into it. And I _have_ apologized for that incident many times, if I can remember perfectly."

"Whatever."

Cold silence ensues.

"Oh no. You're not really mad, are you?"

She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

"Look, I've just been so stressed out lately," she says, without opening her eyes, "And I'm not really in the mood for this. Especially when you're making fun of me."

A pair of warm arms encircles her from behind and a kiss is placed on her forehead. She leans back and lets his chin rest atop her hair.

"You know I really didn't mean any of that," he apologizes.

Another long pause.

"I know."

A contented silence settles upon both of them. Scorpius Malfoy takes a seat beside Rose Weasley, and wraps an arm around her shoulders. His eyes glint mischievously.

"So for curiosity's sake, why did you think of me as a faery?"

A light smack makes its way to his forearm, and their entwined laughter resonates through the library shelves.

* * *

Scorpius has just finished arranging the books alphabetically by author on their (yes, _their_) library shelf, because he's neat and organized like that.

He takes a step back and marvels at his work. The tomes, novels, and textbooks sit happily in their new home, and he absolutely loves this little nook they call their library.

The clock chimes in the hall. Ten times.

"Ten o'clock already?" he asks the cat lounging on the sofa. Rose's cat, which she got before attending Healer school, purrs at him sleepily.

Scorpius gives the cat a few pats and makes his way to the bedroom.

He finds his wife of three weeks curled up and reading a mauve-bound book.

"So I take it that you finished organizing the shelf?" she asks with a smile, placing her book on the bedside table.

"I prefer to call it a _library_," he answers good-naturedly, climbing into the bed with her.

"You and your obsessive-compulsive tendencies," she shakes her head, grinning, "Sometimes I wonder why on earth I ended up with you."

"It's because you find me irresistible, brilliant, and beyond handsome."

"Keep going and I'll smack you with a book."

"You wouldn't do that. You love books too much— more than me, I presume," he sneaks a glance at his wife who is presently trying to restrain herself from laughing, "And you especially love that book you were reading earlier that you would never risk it being damaged."

"Oh, that one about the faeries?"

"That's the one."

"If I can recall accurately, you've read it, like, five million times."

"Okay, you got me," Scorpius says mockingly, "I have this lifelong obsession to sprout twinkling faery wings."

"Not all faeries have wings."

Scorpius laughs, closing the gap between them with a swift kiss.

"Yes, not all faeries have wings," Scorpius agrees in between kisses, "But they're all so damn beautiful, and enchanting."

Rose studies him for a moment, and whispers, "That's why I thought you were one."

"See!" he smiles, "I knew you found me enchanting. Even in Hogwarts. Were you part of my fan club then?"

"Shut up."

"After all these years, you still have trouble admitting I'm enchanting. You really are a terrible liar."

She glares at him pointedly, and denies his accusations.

Scorpius leans his head on Rose's shoulder and makes his way to her neck.

"I'm not a faery," he says, "But maybe _you _are."

"And what makes you say that?" Rose blushes, pulling him closer to her.

"For the record, Rose, I always found you enchanting."


End file.
